


Notting Hill - AU

by twistercas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Notting Hill Fusion, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 09:08:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17998964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twistercas/pseuds/twistercas
Summary: Years ago I was watching Notting Hill (if you're here, you know the one) for probably the 30th time. I started imagining it as an AU for Dean and Cas...and here we are.Castiel Milton owns a tiny little bookshop in Notting Hill called Honeybee Books. Very little ever changes in his ordinary world, until world famous American actor, Dean Winchester, walks through his door.Characters belong to the creators of Supernatural. Majority of the story line is credited to the writers of the movie Notting Hill.





	1. Honeybees and Would Be Thieves

Walking down Portobello Road on his work break, Castiel Milton passes at least a half dozen newsstands. And crowded around every newsstand are people chattering about the newest bit of gossip splashed across the front pages of every newspaper and magazine. He’s never understood people that are so intensely obsessed with Hollywood and celebrities and the like. It’s unhealthy. They shouldn’t be obsessing over someone else’s life when they’ve got their own to be living. They’ll miss out on so much.

So, consequently, Cas doesn’t know much about what this week’s hottest gossip in the media is. But he does know about _him_. Who doesn’t? The one whose name is almost always the one gracing the front pages. Dean Winchester is the “greatest movie star of our time.” Glamorous, mysterious, internationally loved.

Cas has seen most of his films of course, and always thought he was incredible to say the least-- but, you know, a million miles from the world Cas himself lives in. Which is a tiny little town in London called Notting Hill. Cas isn’t complaining though; he loves his little town. 

They’ve got the market on weekdays, selling every fruit and vegetable known to man. The tattoo parlour, where currently stands a guy who got completely sloshed and now can’t remember why he chose ‘I Love Ken.’ Cas would swear this isn’t the first time he’s seen that same man coming out of there with a confused look on his face. Not to mention those ridiculous hairdressers where everyone comes out looking like the Cookie Monster, whether they want to or not. 

Then the weekend comes, and as soon as the sun peeks out over the horizon, hundreds of stalls appear out of nowhere, filling Portobello Road right up to Notting Hill Gate. And thousands of people buy hundreds of antiques; some genuine, and some not so genuine. Cas passes a stand every weekend that sells stained glass windows portraying angels and saints plopped right next to ones of Beavis and Butthead with halos above their heads. 

 So this is where Cas has chosen to spend his life. In this small village in a house with a blue door that he and his wife, Meg, had bought together. That is, before she left him for a man who looked almost exactly like Colin Firth. 

Ever since then, he’s lived some sort of half-life. Forced to room with Gabriel, his horribly inappropriate and sometimes incredibly moronic, older brother.

“Gabe!” Cas yells out after wrestling open the bright blue front door because _someone_ had left his bicycle leaning against it.

“Little bro!” Gabriel appears at the top of the little staircase leading up from the entryway into the main bit of the home, his blonde hair sticking up every which way. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of gray boxer-briefs, which does not phase Cas in the slightest. He grew up with this idiot, nothing he does is ever odd to him.

Gabe points a finger at Cas as he shoves by him into the kitchen. “I need your help with an incredibly important fashion decision, Cassy.”

Cas rolls his eyes as roots around in their tiny fridge. There’s next to nothing in it, save for a jar of pickles that’s mostly just the juice, some sort of disgusting fizzy drink that has got be liquid diabetes, a few other pathetic things. Gabe was supposed to do the food shopping this week.

Cas gives up on the fridge and turns to Gabe, “Is this decision important in comparison to, say, deciding what should be done to stop starvation in third-world countries?”

“Almost equally so,” Gabe says, bouncing on the heels of his feet. “The magnificent Candie has finally agreed to a date with me and I need to be sure I’ve picked the best possible t-shirt.”

Cas has to stop himself from snorting out a laugh. Candie. Of course his sweet-toothed older brother would manage to find himself a woman named _Candie_ . Surprisingly, or perhaps unsurprisingly, that _is_ her real name.  

“Okay,” he says, “Let me see the choices.”

“Nice.” Gabe sprints off up the first set of stairs towards his room. Cas turns to start tidying up the filthy apartment. Gabe leaves enough mess for the both of them and never does a thing to clean it up.

He’s shoving a pile of dirty plates into the sink when his brother comes back down. He’s sporting a white t-shirt with a horrendous plastic monster head sticking out of a pool of red blood. Written over the plastic thing is “I Love Blood.”

Cas widens his eyes. “Yes, um, well I think if you’re aiming for romance this is definitely not the right choice.”

Gabriel clicks his tongue and flicks the alien head a few times. “You’re absolutely right, Cassy. I knew that university degree was good for something.” He runs back up the stairs as Castiel scoffs.

“Good for something,” he mutters bitterly, “Like I need a degree to know that shirt would be a train-wreck.”

Then Gabe is back again, this time in a neon-yellow shirt with a huge black arrow pointing towards his crotch saying ‘Get It Here.”

“No!” Cas says immediately, stopping Gabe before he even reaches the bottom step. “Again, not exactly screaming ‘true love’.”

Gabe spins on his heel and strips off the shirt as he heads back up, “Just one more, Cassy. I think you’re definitely gonna like this one!”

Castiel shakes his head and yells after his brother, “You know, you could just wear normal shirt!”

Gabe either doesn’t hear him, or is choosing to ignore logic. This time he comes back in a light pink shirt with a bunch of little hearts surrounding the words, ‘You’re the most beautiful girl in the world!.’

Cas furrows his brow. This is...suspiciously okay.

“Huh. That’s honestly not too bad, “ He says, and Gabe grins.

“Fantastic,” His brother says, “Wish me luck!” He struts proudly back up the stairs, giving Cas a full view of the back of the shirt which reads, in huge black letters “Fancy a Fuck?”

Cas sighs and slaps the palm of his hand to his forehead. He shouldn’t be surprised, really. Yet his brother’s idiocy still continues to amaze him.

“Ohh, that date is really not going to go well.” He says to himself, shaking his head.

Castiel stares up the steps where his brother disappeared, debating whether or not he should climb _all those stairs_ to tell him that maybe he should just borrow one of Cas’s shirts. He decides against it. He’s got to go back to work anyway.

So there he was on yet another hopeless Thursday, taking the same old route through the market, on the way to his same old job. His little book shop sits right in the middle of a street full of other shops. There’s even another book shop two down from his, owned by this strange bloke named Balthazar. Cas was rightly ticked off when the man had decided to open up his shop so close to his own, but Cas quickly got over his anger when he realized Balth was only going to sell travel books. Needless to say, Cas didn’t lose much business to him.

Besides, Cas sells honey too. Hence the name, ‘Honeybee Books’ written in gold lettering against a dark blue backdrop across the top of his tiny little shop.

He gets the honey from his assistant manager, Cain, who lives out in the country and keeps his own bees. Cas was always jealous of that. He likes his little home, but sometimes he does wish for more space. Maybe even a yard, so he can keep his plants somewhere other than in pots on the roof. Hah.

The bell over the door jingles as Cas’s pushes his way in. The bell is in the shape of a bumblebee, actually. Cas was quite proud of himself when he spotted it at one of the odds and ends stands in the market one Sunday.

When he hears the bell, Cain looks up from behind the counter, where he had his head buried in a book. Cain is both Cas’s assistant manager, and only employee. Literally the _only employee_. It doesn’t take much to run this place.

Cas looks around at his book shop as Cain shuts his novel and pulls the sales record book in front of him instead. He begins to talk about the sales boost brought about by the good weather and of profit margins and Cas just barely manages to keep from zoning out.

Honeybee Books is a little bit chaotic. It’s stuffed practically to the brim with bookshelves, because Cas had wanted to fit as many in as possible. And who cares if you can barely walk between shelves without turning sideways? It’s worth it for the books.

And there are books _everywhere_. Used books, new books, neat piles of books, unfortunate books that were once in neat piles until they encountered clumsy customers, and even a few stray library books that people had left behind for some unknown reason. Cas always meant to gather them up and take them down to the library but he never seems to remember.

There are even books behind the counter and in Cas’s office. Usually those are the ones the two men had pulled off the shelves to read themselves when the day was running slow, which was honestly more often than not.

Cain finishes up with his report of the tiny business’s financial standing. It was normal. Cas doesn’t make a lot of money off the place, and Cain makes even less. But, they both loved it here, and they made enough to live decently. Actually, Cas has a sneaking suspicion that Cain is a secret millionaire only working at Honeybee because he already made his fortune somewhere else. How else does he afford that pretty country house and a land full of beehives? He _is_ older, he’s probably had enough time in his life to have become a wealthy businessman or something.

Cain clears his throat, “Should I go get us some coffees?” He raises an eyebrow, “Maybe a caffeine buzz will make things seem a little more than mediocre.”

Cas laughs, “Why not.”

He digs a crumpled five pound note out of his pocket, does his best to flatten it, and hands it to Cain. As the older man leaves, he passes a customer walking in, for whom he barely spares a glance before turning right towards the coffee shop.

Cas is behind the counter now, skimming over the reports Cain had just read to him because what else is he going to do?. He glances up at the customer who just walked in, a man in faded jeans and a snug-fitting gray Henley, then looks back down at the reports.

Cas skims a few more lines and then freezes. He looks slowly, very slowly, back up at the man who is now calmly browsing the shelf right by the door. His face is hidden by a pair of black Ray-Bans that are probably worth at least what the shop made in sales last month, and he’s got a baseball cap pulled down tightly on his head, but with both Cas still recognizes him. But, no, it can’t be...there’s no way in heaven, which is where he must’ve just died and gone to, that this could be…

Dean Winchester? Dean Winchester, the world famous actor, is in his book shop. How--why...what? _Dean Winchester_ in _his_ bookshop -- oh, shite he’s looking up at him.

Cas clears his throat and tries his best to compose himself. “Is there anything I can help you with?” He asks pleasantly.

_‘Okay, good, that wasn’t bad. No voice shaking, no stuttering. Keep that up.’_

The actor, _the Academy Award winning actor_ , gives him a friendly smile, “No thanks, just browsing,” his American accent has a slight country twinge to it.  

“Okay,” Cas says, still slightly in awe. Okay maybe more than slightly.

Castiel watches him out of the corner of his eye, trying very hard to not _seem_ like he’s watching him. He sees him slide a novel off of the shelf and cringes. 

“That book is really not very good,” Cas speaks up, then hastily, “Unless, of course, you’ve read it before and liked it. In which case, sorry.”

Dean chuckles and flips to the inside of the cover, quickly reading the story’s summary. The novel is William Faulkner’s _As I Lay Dying_ , a very strange book, and terribly frustrating to read.

“I read it once when I was younger,” the actor says, “Don’t remember much though. But I’ll assume you’re not lying when you say it sucks.” He pushes the book back into its place on the shelf.

Cas smiles and nods, then realizes he should probably suggest something, considering he just talked this man out of buying a book. He looks around and spots the book that Cain had been reading earlier. On a whim, he decides to go with it.

“This one though,” he says, and Dean looks back up at him, now tucking his Ray-Bans into the neckline of his shirt, “Is quite good, actually.” Then he frowns down at the book in his hands, “Although maybe a tad depressing.”

Dean steps close enough towards where Cas is at the counter to see the cover, and he grins. “Vonnegut, huh? I like Vonnegut. Haven’t read that one though.”

Cas smiles broadly and Dean continues, “Thanks, man. I’ll think about it.”

Cas nods, a bit disappointed. He’s about to say something else before something on the security cam monitor beneath the counter catches his eye.

He sighs and walks out from behind the counter saying to Dean, “Sorry, excuse me a moment,” and heads around a few shelves to the back of the store. He feels Dean’s eyes follow him as he goes.

He approaches a young man, about twenty, wearing an extremely baggy sweatshirt and dirty, ripped jeans. He looks up at Cas and then hurriedly looks down at the ground.

Castiel crosses his arms over his chest and looks sternly at the boy. “Got some bad news for you,” he says.

The guy looks up at him blankly, “What.”

Cas taps his foot on the ground. “We’ve got a video camera recording this bit of the shop.” He waves a hand up at where it’s mounted on the wall, a little red light winking down at them.

“So what?”

“So?” Cas repeats, “ _So_ , I watched you shove that book up your sweatshirt.”

“What book?” The boy shifts his feet, but he’s got his arms wrapped around his stomach in what would be a highly suspicious way even if Cas hadn’t literally watched him try to take the book.

Cas sighs heavily, he seems to be doing a lot of that today. “Seriously? The one shoved up your sweatshirt. And if you deny it again there’s nothing much I can do about it,” he shrugs, “except call the police. But if I turn out to be wrong about the book shoved up your sweatshirt, I’ll sincerely apologize.”

The guy lets one arm abandon his stomach to scratch the back of his neck uncomfortably, “Okay, what if I did have a book up my shirt.”

“Well, ideally, when I head back ‘round the front you’ll take Fifty Shades of Grey out from where you shoved the poor thing, and either put it back on the shelf or buy it. See you soon.” With that, he spins on his heel and walks back out front.

When he gets there, Dean Winchester is leaning against the counter holding the Kurt Vonnegut novel. He had been leaning _over_ the counter just as Cas walked into view, and Cas is sure he had been watching Cas confront the thief on the security camera monitor. Now he straightens and,  seeing the weary look on the bookshop owner’s face, smiles in commiseration at Cas.

Cas nearly laughs out loud, because he sincerely doubts Dean Winchester has ever had to deal with running a bookshop that makes so little money that even just one stolen book would set him back. Every cent counts.

He heads behind the counter as Dean says, “You know, I was gonna steal one myself but I think I’ve changed my mind. You’re kind of scary.”

Cas laughs, his head thrown back, and when he looks at Dean, the man is grinning teasingly at him.

“Well good, because scaring the potential customers is certainly something every salesperson should aim to do,” Cas snorts, reaching a hand out for the book in Dean’s hand.

Just then, the guy from the back appears next to the counter. There’s no bulge beneath his sweatshirt and in his hand is a pen and what looks like a ripped piece of a brown paper bag.

“Hey, bruv,” the guy says to Dean. glancing once at Cas awkwardly, “Can I have your autograph?”

Dean hands his book to Cas and reaches for the paper and pen saying, “What’s your name, man?”

“Alfie,” the kid says.

As he signs the paper, Dean tilts it in such a way that Cas can read every word. He chokes down a laugh as he reads, “Fifty Shades of Grey, Alfie? Really? Next time you get caught, make sure it’s a better book. - Dean Winchester.”

He signs with big flourishes on the D and the W.

Alfie takes it without reading it, but he says, “Do you want my number, yo? My friends and I know this great spot to go and smoke and drink some. You could hang with us.”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “Tempting, Alfie, very tempting. But I’m gonna have to say no.”

Alfie nods like he was pretty much expecting that answer and leaves.

Cas watches him go in disbelief. That kid must’ve killed half of his brain cells smoking weed because that’s the only way he could have the guts to ask Dean Winchester if he wanted to ‘smoke and drink’ with him.

When Cas looks away from the kid leaving, Dean is watching him, money in hand. Cas suddenly realizes he still hasn’t bagged the Vonnegut novel in his hand and stammers an apology. Dean waves a hand as if to say ‘No, it’s fine.’

As he wraps the book up in a brown paper bag decorated with bees Cas says, “I see you decided on Vonnegut.” He smiles to himself, honestly proud that Dean has decided to buy the book Cas had suggested.

Up close, Dean Winchester’s eyes look even more green than Cas could have possibly imagined. The magazines aren’t lying when they say they’re “greener than a country pasture in summertime.” Cas had thought that was the most idiotic description ever written when he read it, but now he’s got to admit it’s rather true. Though one would think people who are paid to write would be better at word play.

“Yeah,” Dean smiles a little, “figured I might as well.” He takes the wrapped up book Cas holds out for him, their fingers brushing slightly. Cas wonders if this tiniest of touches was intentional; doubtful, but he can’t stop himself from hoping.

“I hope you enjoy it then,” Castiel replies as Dean takes a step back towards the door. “Otherwise I’ll feel accountable for the horrible recommendation.”

The actor smiles again, wider this time. “I’m sure it’s just what I need.” Then he turns and is gone, the little jingle of the honey bee bell and the slight smell of cologne are all that’s left behind.

Cas lets out a deep breath and leans hard against the counter behind him. He closes his eyes, still not fully believing that what just happened was reality. Part of him stupidly wonders if he should have gotten an autograph. _Don’t be an idiot, Castiel._ No, no, if he was going to meet a world famous celebrity in some sort of serendipitous moment like he had, then it went about as well as he could have hoped.

The bell jingles again, but it’s only Cain returning with a warm coffee in each hand. Cain sets the coffees on the counter and then makes an inquiring face at Castiel’s expression, who is still starstruck and who will probably remain that way until the next morning when the reality of his mundane existence settles back in.

But for now…”You’ll never believe who just came in here.”


	2. Coffee Stains

Cas was right, Cain didn’t believe him.

“Are you sure he didn’t just look like him?” Cain insists, “because I once thought I saw Ringo Starr on a bus in London. Turned out it was a German tourist.”

Castiel sighs and shrugs. There was no point in swearing for the third time that he had really and truly looked straight into the eyes of one of the most famous men in the world, _and_ sold him a book.

“Maybe it wasn’t him.” Cas decides to let it go. He holds up his empty paper coffee cup and uses it to gesture towards the one that Cain had just drained. “Fancy another?”

A warm, sweet smelling breeze greets Castiel when he steps out of his little bookshop and turns right towards the closest cafe. It’s owned by a very kind woman, Amelia Novak. She runs the entire shop by herself, with the “help” of her 5 year old daughter Claire. A good friend of Castiel’s had attempted to set the two of them up once, a year or two before. The timing had just never worked for them. 

The cafe was about as busy as it ever got, which meant that a quarter of the tables were still empty, and Cas only had to wait a short moment to order. 

Amelia gives him a friendly smile as she hands him the two coffees; Claire waves one tiny hand in farewell from where she sits at a table closest to the counter surrounded by crayons and scribbled on papers. 

Drinks in hand, Cas rounds the corner of Portobello road back towards his shop wondering if maybe the timing would be better now. That is, until he runs straight into what feels like a brick wall. 

He lets out a yelp of shock, and his sentiments are mirrored by the man, not a brick wall, he had just collided with. The lid flies off the cup of one of Cas’s coffees: the hot drink spilling all down the front of the gray henley worn by one Dean Winchester.

“Shit!” Dean exclaims, looking down at the dark stain seeping across his chest.

“Here, here let me help,” Cas utters frantically, reaching forward with the paper napkins he had wrapped around the coffees, confident that these flimsy napkins can mop up every last drop and fix this mess. He’s seconds from reaching out and wiping at Dean’s chest himself when he realizes that maybe that’s not such a good idea. His hands stop dead just inches away, and instead he thrusts the napkins at Dean.

“He-here,” he stutters, embarrassed.

Dean takes the napkins from his outstretched hands and mutters his thanks, though somewhat bitterly. He dabs at the stain with one hand, in his other he holds a shopping bag Cas is pretty sure he didn't have earlier that day.

"Er..," Cas decided to take a stab at being helpful again, "look I live just across the street. If you want you can clean up there."

Dean sighs, crumpling the useless napkins in his hand, "Thanks, but I have to get my car back." 

“I also have a phone?” Cas offers, realizing immediately after that Dean probably has his own cell phone. Why wouldn’t he?

But, Dean sighs and seems on the verge of being persuaded. So Cas continues, “ I’m fairly confident that we can have you tidied up in ten minutes or less. I swear.”

The actor runs a hand over his light brown hair, and Cas can’t help but watch him do it. “Alright fine. But how close exactly is ‘just across the street’? Like...give it to me in yards.”

“Sixteen yards?” Cas replies immediately. “Really, I live just there.” He points to his little house just across the street. “The one with the blue door.” 

“Well you weren’t lying about close,” Dean deadpans. “Alright, lead the way.” 

The blue door opens easily this time as Cas leads Dean into his little home, a fact Cas is glad about for two reasons. One, he gets to avoid a very awkward and somewhat embarrassing attempt at opening a door with a bicycle in the way while also still trying to look cool. And two, the lack of the bicycle blocking the door means that Gabe isn’t home. 

However, just because his older brother isn’t here, it doesn’t mean that the messes he makes have left the flat with him. Cas hurries a little bit before Dean, trying his best to tidy up as much as he can without making it completely obvious that he’s basically hiding what looks like a war zone.

“It’s a bit of a mess, sorry, my older brother he..well..yeah,” he trails off. _That’s not important Castiel._ “Anyway, there’s a bathroom right up those stairs there, and the phone is hanging on the wall right when you get to the top.”

Dean nods once and heads up the stairs, pausing only to lay the bag from Cas’s shop on a chair by the staircase. Cas watches him go for a split second before turning to assess the disaster that is his kitchen. He frantically shoves dirty plates in the sink and napkins into the bin while doing his best not to think about the fact that award winning American actor Dean _bloody_ Winchester is up in his bathroom right at this exact moment. A bathroom that probably isn’t much cleaner than the room Cas is standing in now.

It seems like no time at all has passed before Dean is coming back down the stairs. He’s replaced the coffee covered henley with a black dress shirt left untucked over his jeans, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. This was something he must have had in the shopping bag. Cas wonders what it had been intended for before this little mishap. He also wonders, though he’d never admit it, what it would look like on his bedroom floor.

Dean stops at the bottom of the stairs and looks at Cas. One second, then another goes by before Cas can make himself say anything.

“Would you like a cup of coffee before you go…,” he starts to say, trailing off. “Right probably not actually.”

The side of Dean’s mouth twitches slightly, like he couldn’t quite stop a smile.

Cas moves towards his fridge, looking for anything at all that he could offer. There’s next to nothing. He hasn’t had time to go shopping this week, and God knows Gabe won’t do it.

“What about tea?” He asks, glimpsing the teapot on the stove as he reaches for the handle of the fridge.

“No thanks.”

“Juice?”

“No.”

“Really, anything at all? Soda, water, this..disgusting sugary thing they’re trying to pass off as edible?”

“Really, no.”

“Do you always say no to everything?” Castiel quips.

There’s a pause, then Dean chuckles. “No,” he says. Then, “Look, I really should be going. Thanks for the help.”

Cas nods, he considered himself lucky to have gotten even this brief chance meeting with Dean Winchester. He knows a lot of women, and men, would kill to be in his place right now. He also knew it was bound to come to an end eventually.

“Well it was nice...meeting you…” Cas trails off, unsure of the right thing to say in this situation. Thanks for buying a book? Thanks for existing? You’re gorgeous?

He guides Dean to the door, trying desperately to think of something else to say before Dean steps out that infernal blue door and is gone forever.

“It was nice..” He repeats, “Surreal..but nice.”

Dean smiles, like he’s trying to diffuse the awkward tension hanging over their heads. Then he nods, turns, and is gone.

Cas stares wide eyed at the closed door. “Surreal but nice?” He shakes his head in disbelief at himself. “Really?”

He turns and slowly makes his way back towards the kitchen, figuring that he may as well finish the half-assed cleaning job he had started. The house seems lonelier now somehow, as though Dean had brought more life into the place than there had ever been.

Cas has one foot on the short steps leading up to the kitchen when there’s a loud knock at the door, sharp and sudden.

He figures it’s Gabe, who often forgets or loses his key, and makes his way back to the door.

When he opens it, it’s not his brother who looks back at him, but Dean Winchester.

“H-hello,” Cas stutters, then does his best to recover. “Did you leave something behind?”

Dean nods, then holds up the shopping bag in his right hand. “I forgot my other bag. The one with the book.” He steps back through the doorway and Cas closes the blue door behind him, almost in a stupor.

“Right, yeah.” Cas nods in return, refusing to acknowledge his own slight disappointment. So sue him, he was hoping Dean was back for some other reason.

Cas heads quickly up into the kitchen and spots the bee-covered brown bag sitting on the chair by the stairs right where Dean had left it. He snatches it up and heads back towards Dean with a little bit more haste than intended.

He hands the bag to Dean with a smile, “Here we go,” he says.

“Thanks...again,” Dean says, though he doesn’t move to leave. In fact, he seems to be leaning closer, or that just Cas’s hopeful mind seeing what it wants to?

The tiny hallway seems even smaller than usual, as though the walls themselves are trying to push the two men together. The space between them feels like a never-ending chasm to Castiel, one that he desperately wants to leap.

Then suddenly, the space is filled. Dean moves forward in a quick motion, like he had just decided a split second before to do what he was about to do. Then even more suddenly, the actor’s lips crash against Cas’s in a heat-of-the-moment kiss.

Castiel’s mind goes instantly blank for heart beat or two, and then begins to whir at 100 miles a minute. Though understandably, there’s only a single thought playing on repeat. _“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god…”_

Cas’s hands itch to reach for Dean and pull him deeper into the kiss, but too soon Dean is pulling away. They both smile, suddenly shy.

“Erm...” Cas isn’t sure what to say, he has no reference for a situation like this. “I’m sorry for that ‘surreal but nice’ comment earlier, that was...disastrous.”

“Oh don’t worry about it,” Dean says with a smirk, “I’ve heard much worse.”

Cas is spared from having to think of an adequate comeback when a key begins to click in the lock beside them. Though “spared” may be the wrong word to use. The lock turning means Gabe is home, which also means that Cas is trading one unwelcome situation for another.

“Oh god,” Cas says hurriedly, his eyes widening in in fear, “that’s my brother, I’m sorry, there’s really no explanation for him…”

Gabe pushes into the house and says a quick “hi” to Cas and Dean with barely even a glance at them. He walks up the stairs into the kitchen while saying loudly, “I’m just gonna grab something to eat and then I’m gonna tell you a story that’ll make your balls shrink to the size of raisins.”

If it’s possible, Cas’s eyes grow even wider in disbelief, and he finds himself desperately wishing he could deny all relation to this...nutcase. 

Dean is looking at Cas, and seems surprisingly unphased by Gabe. “Would be best if you didn’t mention this to anyone…” He stares at Cas with his eyebrows raised, his statement sounding more like an order than a simple request. Of course, nothing about this was simple.

Cas nods. “Of course not. Won’t tell a soul. Though, I mean, I may tell myself occasionally,” he pauses, “...but don’t worry, I won’t believe it.”

 


End file.
